


Family Don’t End With Blood

by genevra1676



Series: The Monster That You Know [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry Sam Winchester, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Sam Winchester, Creature Dean, Crying Dean, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Frottage, Guilty Sam, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Violence, Oral Sex, POV First Person, POV Sam Winchester, Season/Series 05, Shifter Dean Winchester, Suicidal Dean, Suicidal Thoughts, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-09-20 15:17:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9497975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genevra1676/pseuds/genevra1676
Summary: Unbeknownst to Sam, his mother wasn't the only one who died the night he turned six months old.  After carrying him outside, his brother went back to look for their parents and was overcome by smoke.  Distraught with grief, John found a shapeshifter child a few months later and convinced it to take Dean's place.  So Sam grew up not knowing the truth, believing the shifter to be his brother.  Until one night he discovers the truth, and he doesn't react well . . .





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [But I'm the one you know](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4005571) by [darkskinwalker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkskinwalker/pseuds/darkskinwalker). 



> I was working on another longer Wincest fic when this plot bunny showed up one morning and just wouldn't leave. The story is partially inspired by "But I'm the one you know" by darkskinwalker. It is set sometime after Episode 5.16, Dark Side of the Moon. It is currently fairly canon-compliant (other than the big secret) but will probably start to deviate sometime later in the series.
> 
> Standard disclaimer: The words in this story are mine, but the setting and characters belong to Eric Kripke, the CW, et al.

I stirred awake at the sound of the door to our motel room closing.  I’d had a difficult time falling asleep tonight, the ibuprofen taking longer than usual to counteract the bruising.  I turned towards the other bed and sat up abruptly.  Dean should have been fast asleep—the painkillers I’d given him after stitching up the wounds from taking down a wendigo earlier should have knocked him out for hours.  But his bed was empty, his jeans and boots gone.

I got up, quickly pulled on my own clothes, and threw on my jacket.  Force of habit had me slipping my Taurus into my waistband and my silver knife into my jacket pocket.  I couldn’t count on the fact that Dean hadn’t woken me up to assume that nothing was wrong.  Even after all this time, my big brother still defaulted to “Keep Sammy safe” mode and tried to put himself between me and any threat.  Which is why he had ended badly clawed up this evening while I’d escaped with only a few bruises.

The air was crisp and cold and the parking lot devoid of life when I stepped out of the motel room, the Impala still resting in front of the door.  I walked around the side of the building and saw movement in the woods behind the motel.  I drew my gun and stealthily approached the tree line.  As I crept closer, I saw a small fire built on top of the packed snow and my brother standing beside it, stark naked.  I froze in horror as I realized he was _pulling off pieces of his skin_ and throwing them in the fire, eyes gleaming silver in the flickering light.

I jammed the pistol, loaded with useless regular bullets, back in my waistband and pulled out the knife before darting forward.  “What the hell have you done with my brother, you bastard?” I shouted, grabbing the shifter by the shoulder and holding the blade against its throat.

The creature turned wide green eyes on me and raised its hands slowly.  “ _Shit!_   Hold on, Sam!  I _am_ your brother, I’m _Dean_.  Let’s keep calm and go back to our room.  I can explain everything there, I promise.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you, asshole!  When did you switch with Dean, and where do you have him?  Start talking now, or I’m gonna start cutting things off!”  I pressed the edge in closer, drawing a thin line of blood.

“ _Please_ , Sammy!  I haven’t done anything, I swear!  Listen, I know you’re not gonna take my word for it.  But I’ve got proof back in our room, I really do.  Just lemme show it to you!  After that, if you still wanna use that knife or wan—wanna leave, I’ll—I’ll understand.  But you gotta lemme show you the truth first.”  Tears now glimmered in its eyes.

I looked down at the monster wearing my brother’s likeness.  There was no sign of the cunning, rage, or sheer madness I usually saw when dealing with shapeshifters.  All I could see in its expression was sorrow and fear. 

“Fine.  But you stay in front of me, and no sudden moves!”

“All—all right.”  The shifter took a step back and slowly bent down to pick up its—Dean’s—clothes.  It kicked dirt and snow over the fire and then walked backed to the motel.  It was still nude, fair skin shining in the winter moonlight, familiar constellations of freckles scattered over its shoulders and back.

I tried to tamp down my worry for Dean as we got back to the motel room, hoping that he wasn’t in bad shape wherever he was, hoping that this delay wouldn’t worsen his situation.  I indicated that the shifter should stand still in the middle of the room as I turned on the lights and went to the duffle bag of weapons.  I swiftly exchanged the clip of standard bullets for one of silver and grabbed a pair of silver-plated handcuffs. 

Once I had my gun trained on it again, I motioned for the shifter to move close enough to slap the cuffs on it.  It didn’t look happy at being bound but didn’t seem to react to the silver.  I frowned, recalling that it hadn’t flinched when I cut it earlier either.

“What is it you need to show me?” I asked harshly.  When it started to go over to Dean’s bag, I said, “Hold it!  There are all sorts of things in his bag I’m not letting a damn monster get anywhere near.  So you stay right there and tell me what to look for.”

The shifter sighed.  “Okay.  There’s a pocket sewn into the lining in the bottom of the bag.  You’ll find a slit in the seam near the end closest to the base of the zipper.”

I pulled the bag to me and pushed aside Dean’s clothes and other belongings until I reached the seam it had described.  I felt around until I found the slit and cautiously reached inside.  Something rustled under my fingers, and I pulled out several sheets of creased and folded paper.  As I unfolded them, I realized they were pages torn from Dad’s journal.  I sat down at the dinette table and smoothed open the first page with one hand, still keeping the Taurus aimed at the creature with the other.

_November 3, 1983_

_I can’t believe they’re both dead.  My beautiful Mary, pinned to the ceiling like some kind of bug, her stomach cut open.  And the expression on her face before the fire covered her . . . I’ve never seen so much pain and terror, not even in ‘Nam.  What could have done that to her?  I don’t care what the authorities say, there’s no way that was an accident or anything remotely “normal!”_

_And Dean, oh my God, Dean.  I handed Sammy to him and told him to take the baby to safety.  But I should have followed him, made sure he was safe, instead of trying to get to Mary, who was already dead.  I could have stopped him from going back inside to find us, I could have kept him safe.  The firefighters found him in the hallway, just a few feet from the nursery.  They said it was the smoke, that he was already gone before the fire got to him.  It’s my fault that my boy, Mary’s little angel, is dead._

_What am I supposed to do without them?  All I have left is Sammy.  I have to be strong for him.  I have to protect him and find out what killed his mother and caused his brother’s death._

I stared at the words in absolute shock.  What they said had to be impossible—there’s no way Dean had died the same night as our mom!  I raised my eyes to the other figure in the room.  The shifter had managed to put its jeans back on and now sat on the edge of the closest bed, its head lowered and shoulders slumped.  Everything about its appearance was as familiar as my own—tousled dark gold hair, broad solid shoulders, long bowed legs, scarred capable hands.  If my brother had really died as a small child, then who was this thing mimicking?

I took a deep breath and looked back at the pages in my hand, hoping to find answers.  The next few entries covered the months immediately after the fire, describing the beginnings of Dad’s search and early forays into hunting.  They were full of expressions of grief and remorse over the deaths of his family but contained nothing about the mystery of what had happened to Dean afterward.  A couple more promising entries were dated shortly after what should have been my brother’s fifth birthday.

_January 28, 1984_

_Took out a shapeshifter today.  Damn thing was killing people, taking their forms to get into their homes, and stealing their valuables.  By the time the real bodies were discovered, the shifter would be long gone.  It fortunately wasn’t much of a fighter and was easy enough to take down.  After disposing of the body, I backtracked to its lair to make sure it didn’t have any victims trapped there.  To my surprise, I found its offspring instead.  I thought it was another victim at first, until the kid panicked and shifted in front of me._

_I know I should kill the thing.  A baby monster is still a monster.  But it looks to be about Dean’s age, and I was struck by a crazy, wonderful idea.  I still have pictures of my boy and even a keepsake box that survived the fire with a lock of his hair and the tooth that got knocked out when he fell off his tricycle.  More than enough to allow the shifter kid to do its thing.  If I do this, I can have a part of my son back, or at least as close as I’m going to get in this life.  And Sammy can have his brother again.  He needs someone to take care of him better than I can.  The hunt doesn’t leave me with much time or energy to look after a baby properly._

_So I gave the little shifter a choice.  I could send it to join its father wherever dead monsters go, or it could do what I want and take Dean’s place.  I made it clear that if it ever tried to harm Sam or gave him any reason to think it wasn’t really his brother, I would make sure it would take days to die.  Sammy can never learn the truth.  As far as he will ever know, his brother never died._

_January 31, 1984_

_It’s uncanny, how much it resembles my Dean.  Not only how it looks, but also how it talks and acts just like him.  No one should be able to tell that it’s not the real deal._

_It’s been doing a great job so far of looking after Sam.  It hasn’t complained once about having to tend to the baby.  If I didn’t know any better, I’d even say it’s genuinely fond of him.  And fortunately Sammy has taken to it like gangbusters—for the first time in months he’s not crying all the time, and I actually caught him smiling again earlier today.  This plan is working out better than I ever expected._

_The little creature also seems absurdly grateful for any affection or praise I give it.  I have to admit, I’m finding it difficult to remain as hard as I should.  And not just because its mimicry of my lost boy is so good.  It’s a surprisingly endearing little thing, sweet and eager to please.  I’m nowhere close to trusting it yet, but it seems like the carrot will be more effective than the stick.  Hopefully I can train it right so that it doesn’t turn into a monster like its sire._

_I’ve already moved us away from Lawrence.  We can’t be in contact with anyone there or any of Mary’s family, anyone who knows what really happened to Dean.  As long as we do that, and as long as the shifter keeps playing its part well, we can be a family again.  I can’t bring his mother back, but at least Sammy will have his big brother to watch out for him while I hunt down Mary’s killer.  And I will do whatever it takes to ensure that Sam never finds out what really happened._

I let the papers fall to the ground as I tried to decide what to believe.  Forgery was part of a hunter’s tricks of the trade, but somehow I didn’t think these pages were faked.  The handwriting was an exact match to the rest of Dad’s journal, and the condition of the paper and ink supported the entries being written over two decades ago.  And I suspected that the ripped edges of these pages would match up perfectly to the torn stubs in the beginning of the journal. 

But if this was in fact true, then everything I had based my life around had been a lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Sam's not going to take this well . . .
> 
> This story is finished, and I'll be publishing a new chapter each week, generally around this time. This is my first completed/published fic and is un-beta'ed, so constructive criticism is always welcome.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sam can't handle discovering that Dean is a lying liar who lies . . .

I looked at the shifter again.  “So you’ve been here this whole time, over twenty-five years?  My real brother died before I could even get to know him, and you’ve been pretending to be him ever since?  It’s all been one big hoax—caring about me, about Dad, hunting, all of it?”

Its head shot up, its face shocked.  “ _NO!_   I mean, sure, I didn’t tell you the truth about what I really am.  Dad never wanted you to know.  But I’ve _never_ lied about the rest.  The Dean Winchester you’ve known all your life is still right here.  I’m still the same guy you grew up with, the same guy you’ve been hunting with. 

“And you’re still my baby brother in all the ways that really matter.  I might not have been born your brother, but I helped raise you and took care of you.  You’re the most important thing in my life, and I love you more than anything, man.” 

“You expect me to believe that?  When your only choice was to either impersonate my brother or _die_?”

“Listen, it may have started out that way, but that’s not the whole truth and ain’t been for a _long_ time.  I don’t remember much from before Dad found me.  I did miss my biological parent some at first ‘cause he was all I knew.  But he wasn’t a good parent by anyone’s definition.  I don’t think he was completely sane, and the way he fucking treated me . . . well, you really don’t wanna know.  So I was _grateful_ when Dad took me in and gave me a chance. 

“Our life wasn’t easy, what with all the moving and training and shit, but it was leaps and bounds better than what I had before.  And Dad tried his best to be a good father, even with me.  I could take the drinking and the anger and all the rest because I knew how hard _his_ life was, and I appreciated what love and attention he was able to give the two of us.  And he gave me more than that.  He showed me that even though I was born a damn monster, I could still be a good person if I tried.  He gave me a _purpose_ , something to work for so that I wouldn’t turn out like the things we hunted.

“Most importantly, he gave me _you_.  I _never_ had to fake caring about you.  You’ve always been the best thing in my life.  You’re _everything_ that matters to me—my brother, my kid, my best friend, my partner.  Sometimes growing up I did wish that I really was your brother by blood.  But being what I am makes me better able to keep you safe, so I can’t regret that. 

“And I never liked hiding the truth from you.  But Dad was _adamant_ that you couldn’t ever find out.  There were a coupla times that I almost told you, and he beat me nearly as bad as when you ran off to Flagstaff.  I didn’t hold it against him, ‘cause I knew he was trying to look out for you.  So I learned to keep this secret for his sake and for yours.  But you gotta believe that I’ve _never_ lied about loving you, Sammy.”  The monster looked at me pleadingly.

“Stop saying that!  You don’t get to call me that!”  I stood and punched it in the face with the butt of my pistol.  A thread of dark satisfaction emerged at the sight of blood trickling from its mouth.  The shifter made no move to defend itself, just bit its bleeding lip and looked at me with wide, wet eyes.

“You’ve been lying to me my whole life, and you expect me to believe a word you’re saying now?  I’m supposed to just accept you like this, accept that everything hasn’t been one big con?  For all I know, your _feelings_ for me are just something you downloaded from my real brother,” I sneered.

“You also expect me to ignore that you’re not even _human_ , that you’re one of the things we hunt!  Dad should’ve killed you when he found you!  How many people have you hurt or killed that I don’t know about?  Have you stolen anyone else’s life?  That is what shifters do, after all.”

The creature stared at me, its face even paler.  “What?  No!  I’ve never killed anything that wasn’t part of a legitimate hunt, not even that time Bobby tried to take us deer-hunting.  And I’ve never hurt anyone outside of hunting either, other than in the occasional bar fight.  You _know_ that!  I’m _not_ like the shifters that we’ve taken down.  You’ve been around me almost my whole life.  You know _me_!”

“That’s the whole problem!  I _don’t_ know you anymore!  I don’t know who or what you really are.  I don’t know what, if anything, about you was ever real and not just some trick.  Hell, I don’t know why I’m even still talking to you!” 

It reached its hands out toward me, the silver cuffs glinting under the cheap overhead lights.  “It’s all real, Sam.  Would Dad have left you alone with me all those times over the years if he didn’t trust me and believe that I really love you?  And he’s been gone for years, so no one is forcing me to do anything now.  So why would I still be here with you if I don’t care about you?  What’s the ulterior motive, what’s in it for me if you don’t mean anything to me?  Would I have rescued you from the fire at Palo Alto or from those redneck cannibals or—”

“Stop it, just stop talking!  Your words don’t mean _anything_!  How am I supposed to know they’re not just more _lies_?”  I shouted.  “You tell me you didn’t want to lie to me but Dad forced you to.  Well, like you said, he’s been dead for _four years_ now.  So what’s your excuse for keeping up the charade?”

“’Cause even though Dad’s gone, his reasons for it _ain’t_!  The real truth has always been that I _am_ your brother, and I’ll always love you and take care of you.  Telling you the rest woulda only confused and hurt you, and you already have too much on your plate trying to mess with your head.

“And—and I was _afraid_!  Afraid you couldn’t handle it, that you’d _hate_ me when you found out.  Afraid I’d lose you for good ‘cause of this.”

“You’re afraid of losing _me_?  I lost Jess and Dad because of you!  I gave up any chance of a normal life for you!  I did things I’ll always be ashamed of for you, to try to bring you back or avenge you!  And for what?  For a _monster_ that’s been lying to me _my whole goddamn life_!”

I raised the Taurus and aimed right between its eyes.  The shifter simply watched me, its expression sad and resigned.  My hands began to shake, and I couldn’t bring myself to pull the trigger.  I lowered the gun and stowed it again in my waistband. 

“I need to get out of here and clear my head.  I can’t be here with . . . _whatever_ you are.  Don’t try to run.  I’m going to be even more pissed if I have to track you down to deal with you when I get back.”  I grabbed the keys and left before it could respond.

I drove around for a couple hours, my thoughts in turmoil.  I didn’t know what to think, how to react.  My father and my brother—or what I thought was my brother—had been lying to me for _years_. 

Most of the time anymore, I felt like I no longer had any control over my own life.  It seemed like everything, from Heaven arranging for my parents to get together, to Hell setting me up with Jess, to Heaven _and_ Hell tricking me into killing Lilith, was all one big set-up to force me into becoming Lucifer’s meat suit. 

And now to find out that the most important person in my life wasn’t who, or even what, I thought he was?  I didn’t know if I could handle this.  How was I supposed to accept or trust this thing?  If it had lied to me for so long about something as fundamental as _what it was_ , how could I know if it had meant anything else it had said or done over the years?  And it was a fucking shapeshifter, a _monster_ , something that I should be hunting, _not_ sharing a room and a car with. 

It definitely shouldn’t be something I _wanted_ , in a way that someone should never look at his brother, in a way that being with Jess or Ruby or the occasional girl on the road had never been able to wash away.  Shouldn’t be something that I had idolized and desired for as long as I could remember, until that ache had become as much a part of me as an arm or a leg.  And yet, I couldn’t deny that under all the rage and confusion, the longing—and maybe more—was still there.

I eventually realized that driving aimlessly wasn’t going to resolve anything and steered the Impala back to the motel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Sammy's feeling like everyone and everything's giving him the runaround. Hopefully things will get better for him soon . . .
> 
> This story is finished, and I'll be publishing a new chapter each week, generally around this time. This is my first completed/published fic and is un-beta'ed, so constructive criticism is always welcome.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sam comes to his senses . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for suicidal thoughts/actions near the beginning of the chapter.

The sun was barely beginning to peek over the horizon as I parked in front of the motel room.  Everything was just as quiet and still as when I left, which felt wrong.  My entire world had shifted, and I felt like some of that upheaval should’ve been reflected in my surroundings.

I paused in surprise when I entered the room.  Dean—or whatever its name really was—had always been the stoic, “no chick-flick moments” guy who repressed any show of deep emotion.  The discussion earlier about how it felt about me was already pretty out-of-character.  Now the shapeshifter was curled into a ball on the bed closest to the door, shoulders shaking as it tried to muffle its sobs into the pillow.  I’d seen him—it—cry a handful of times in the past, but never like this.  Not even after losing Dad, whom the shifter did appear to actually idolize.  I felt something, maybe uncertainty, start to flutter in my chest.

My unease increased when I saw the gleam of the engraved M1911 on the bedside table.  The gun had still been in the weapons bag when I’d left the room earlier.  I picked it up and released the clip, which sure enough was loaded with silver bullets. 

I looked down at the shifter and tried to keep my heart from softening.  “Is this some play for sympathy?  You weren’t this bad any of the other times I left you.  Even after that fight we had at Stanford where we didn’t speak for nearly two years.”

It—he?—quickly rolled into a sitting position and looked up at me.  Its—his—large eyes were red from crying, long lashes clumped with tears, freckled skin flushed over high cheekbones, full lips swollen from my earlier blow.  It—he shouldn’t have still been beautiful, and yet he was, achingly so.  I had to take a step back at the depth of love and grief I saw in those eyes.

The shifter glanced down when I stepped back.  “That was different.  You were angry and scared, afraid that if I kept coming to see you, you’d get pulled back into the life you hated.  But I knew that underneath all that, I was _still_ your brother, and you still loved me.  Figured we’d find a way to reconcile eventually.

“But now I’m _nothing_.  Just another fucking monster that ruined your life.  Dragged you back into hunting, got you killed, got most everyone you’ve cared about killed, let you get caught up in revenge and addiction until you got manipulated into this whole Apocalypse mess.  And now that you don’t want anything to do with me, I can’t even do my job and protect you from whatever’s coming next.  Guess Dad was wrong about me.” 

I didn’t seem to be able to stop the angry words coming out of my mouth.  “I’m a grown-ass man now.  I don’t need anyone, any _thing_ to protect me.  Especially _not_ something I can’t trust.”

“Watching out for you, taking care of you, has been the whole point of my existence from day one.  If I don’t have that, if I don’t have _you_ , there’s no need to keep on going.”  He looked up again, his eyes empty, desolate.

I took a long look at the devastation in front of me, and suddenly it was like my heart cracked open and my head cleared.  This was the man who raised me, who starved and sold himself to support me, who gave up his own childhood for me.  This was the man who tried to protect me from everything, who regularly stepped between me and danger without a second thought, who _went to Hell_ to save me.  This was the man who always forgave me, even when I left him over and over again, even when I chose a demon over him, even when I kick-started the damn End of Days through my own willful stupidity.  This was the man who made me fall in love with him not only because of the beauty of his person, but also the size of his heart and the strength of his character.  What he was shouldn’t matter.  This was _my brother_. 

Bobby once told us, “Family don’t end with blood.”  The fact that the man in front of me hadn’t been born as my brother should have meant _nothing_ in the face of all that he’d ever done for me.  Hell, even now he was more concerned with how he’d hurt _me_ than his own feelings.  And yet here I was, about to destroy the only family that ever really mattered to me because I had my fucking head shoved up my own ass.

Dean must have taken my silence for agreement with his last pronouncement.  He smiled sadly and took the pistol and clip from my grasp.  I vaguely noticed that he had freed himself from the handcuffs at some point while I’d been gone.

“Don’t worry, Sam, I’ll take care of it.  I’ll go far enough away that you won’t hafta clean up the mess.  Do whatever you want with the rest of my stuff, but take care of my Baby, please?  If you don’t wanna keep her, give her to Bobby.”  He stood and headed towards the door, not even bothering to put on boots or a shirt.

The realization that he was about to go off by himself and end his life because of me jolted me out of my funk.  I leapt in front of the door and yanked the gun from his hand. 

“No, Dean, please don’t!  I—I don’t know what I was thinking, and I’m so, so sorry for what I’ve said and done to you tonight!  You’ve done everything for me, and the way I’ve treated you was completely uncalled for!  I _do_ love you, and you’re still my big brother.”  I tossed the weapon to one side and pulled him into a hug.

He remained stiff in my arms.  “You don’t need me anymore.  Just a fucking _thing_ , remember?”

“I’m a total douchebag for talking about you like that!  Please don’t take what I said to heart!  And I only meant that I don’t need you to protect me like I’m still a little kid.  I still need you in my life!  You’re my brother, my _family_.”

“You don’t need to do this because you feel obligated or some shit.  I’m just a monster and ain’t worth—”

“You’re _not_ a monster, and you’re worth _everything_ to me,” I interrupted, tightening my grip around him.  “I’m a selfish fucking jerk for making you think anything else.  Please let me make it up to you!  Please, _please_ don’t leave me, Dee!”  I started to shake and my eyes began to tear up at the thought of what I’d almost lost.

Dean relaxed somewhat at the childish nickname, and his arms came up to return my hug.  “It’s okay, Sammy.  No need to cry.  I’m not going anywhere if you don’t want me to.”

I pulled us away from the door and sat us both down on the bed, Dean practically in my lap.  I scooted back until I was resting against the headboard, and then I did pull him into my lap.  I knew I was risking a punch to the face for the enforced cuddle, but I was afraid he’d still try to leave if I let go. 

“It’s not okay, Dee!  You’re worried about _me_ shedding a few tears?  I left you crying for _hours_ , thinking you were worthless because I didn’t want you.  _I’m_ not worth that!  I _never_ should’ve made you feel like you deserved to be taken out and shot like a rabid dog!  You gotta know that you’re the bravest, strongest, kindest person I’ve ever known, and it shouldn’t matter to me if you’re a human or a shifter or a goddamn oompa-loompa.  And I should’ve known that you _never_ would’ve done any of this to hurt me.”

Dean surprisingly didn’t retaliate for the manhandling and actually curled up against my chest with a sniffle and a sigh.  “I really do regret never telling you the whole truth before.  But Dad never, _ever_ wanted you to find out.  And after he died, it had been so damn long, and I didn’t know how to tell you without hurting you.  It didn’t help that every other shifter we ran into was a fucking psycho.  I was kinda terrified that—”

“That I’d react just like I did and behave like an enormous asshat?  I’m so ashamed!  I’m the one always pushing you to be more accepting of creatures like Lenore, even Ruby, and then I treat _you_ of all people like shit and threaten you when I find out what you are.  I even had the nerve to accuse you of hurting people, after all the crap that _I’ve_ pulled!  And to doubt how you feel about me, after all you’ve done for me my whole life?  I don’t know if I can _ever_ forgive myself!”

“I’m not who, or even what, you thought I was,” he murmured into my chest, echoing the thoughts I’d had earlier.  “And I _was_ lying to you about it, even if only by omission, this whole time.  You’ve got a right to be angry.”

“Not like this!  I have _no_ right to treat you as badly as I did, to act like everything you’ve done for me, everything you mean to me, doesn’t matter anymore.  You’ve always been the best big brother I could ever want, and _that’s_ what should’ve been important!  And I was _wrong_ to blame you for all the bad shit that’s happened to me.  None of that was your fault, and you’ve done your best to make things better.  You deserve so much better than me.”  I buried my face in his hair.

“Hey man, I ain’t a teddy bear!  You better not be rubbing snot in my hair!”  He tried to grin up at me when I chuckled weakly.  “Listen, let’s agree that we _both_ screwed up.  I hid a pretty big damn secret from you for a long fucking time, and you understandably reacted poorly when you found out.  So let’s just forgive each other and move on.”

“It’s _not_ the same, Dean.  I know that you were doing what Dad wanted, and that you were trying to protect me.  I reacted horribly and hurt you badly, whether you want to admit it or not.  I mean, you were about to go _shoot yourself_ over this! 

“You’re always willing to forgive me because you’re an _amazing_ person.  You forgave me each time I left you like a selfish prick, for drinking demon blood and lying about it, for trusting that bitch Ruby over you, and even for getting duped like a chump into freeing Lucifer.  What you did doesn’t compare _at all_ to everything I’ve done, and yet I came this close to killing you tonight!  I don’t deserve to be forgiven so easily.”

“Dude, you were in fucking _shock_!  Cut yourself some slack, Sammy.  Most other people found out what you did, they’d have reacted _way_ worse than you did.  They’d have ended my ass or left me for good, not just a couple hours.  You _didn’t_ shoot me, and you came _back_.  That ain’t a small thing.

“And I ain’t a delicate fucking flower!  I can handle some angry words and shit.  Especially now that I know you didn’t mean ‘em.  Yeah, we both probably overreacted, but now we’re practically fucking snuggling!  So can we chill out before we both grow vaginas, bitch?”

I laughed for real this time.  “Oh God, you’re such a jerk!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we end this chapter with Dean being Dean . . .
> 
> I hope Sam's change of heart didn't come across as too quick or abrupt. This is still un-beta'ed, so constructive criticism is always welcome.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sam has questions . . .

We both slid down until we were lying curled around each other, with only some minor grumbling from Dean about being the little spoon.  After enjoying the peace for a few minutes, I lifted my face from my brother’s shoulder.  “Hey Dee, I have some questions, if you don’t mind?”

“’Bout me being a shapeshifter?  Sure, go ahead, Sam.”

“Does anyone else know?”

“Besides Dad?  Not that I’m aware of.  Though I think Missouri might’ve suspected—would explain why she was so mean to me.  And I figure Cas must know, seeing as he touched my damn soul and all.”  Dean sighed.  “Bobby is _so_ gonna kick my ass when I tell him.”

“You’re going to do that?”

“Yeah, I think so.  I mean, now that _you_ know and are mostly okay with it.  That was what I was always most afraid of, that you’d hate me or something when you found out.  But now that we’re past that, it doesn’t seem right to keep this shit from him either.  Just gotta figure out when and how.”

“You worried about how he’ll react?”

“A little bit, but I’m gonna try to be positive about it.  Bobby’s never been one of those black-and-white hunters that assumes everything supernatural is evil, so I’m hoping the shifter thing won’t bother him _too_ much.  Least not enough to make him go for his fucking shotgun!  And the whole not being honest issue should be less . . . _personal_ than it was with you.”  He put a hand over one of mine and squeezed. 

I squeezed his hand back.  “Do you actually have his memories, the um, original Dean’s?  Or do you only know what Dad told you?  And you gotta know, I was totally out of line saying that your feelings were just downloaded from him.  I should never have doubted how you feel about me.”

“Like I told you before, it’s okay, Sammy.  You were upset, and you said stuff you didn’t mean.  And no, the memories are all really there, like they’re actually mine.  All the stuff I’ve told you about Mom, our house, what Dad was like before.  Dad never really talked about back then with me.  Hurt too much, I assumed. 

“Honestly, his memories, the real Dean’s I mean, are stronger than my own from that time.  I think I tried to block most of mine out, and what I do remember _ain’t_ pretty.  I’ve been Dean most of my life, and that’s who I think of myself as.  Sometimes I almost forget that I was someone else once.”

“How could that work though?  I thought that the person you were . . . imprinting on had to still be alive.  I assumed that’s why the shifter in St. Louis kept its victims around.”

“Don’t think it necessarily works that way,” Dean said.  “I think my biological parent killed most of his vics first, and the shifter in Milwaukee sure as hell did.  The one in St. Louis may’ve been leaving his alive as scapegoats.  Could also be that just like regular people, some shifters are better at certain things than others.”

“Like how you’d own me in math lessons, while I’d run circles around you when it came to languages?”

“Exactly.  So maybe the thing in St. Louis rode in on the shifter short-bus when it came to uh, imprinting.  I know my abilities ain’t the same as the shapeshifters we’ve run into so far.  Like, my skin is stronger and fortunately don’t tear off as easily, ‘cause _gross_!  And I don’t actually need to shed most of the times that I shift, ‘cause again _gross_!  I wouldn’t have needed to do it tonight if those wounds weren’t so bad.”

“Is that what you were doing out there?” I asked.

“Yeah.  Most of the time when I get hurt, I let nature take its course.  I heal somewhat faster than normal anyways, and I don’t hafta deal with hiding the missing injury from you.  But when it’s major enough to take me outta commission, I can’t watch after you.  So I’ve gotta shift to get things back to the factory settings, so to speak.  Like I said, most times I don’t even need to shed.  But today, man, if I was human I wouldn’t have fucking survived long enough to be stitched up.  So I had to go for the whole nasty, skin-shredding enchilada.”

“Well, now I know why you never let me change your bandages, and why you try to avoid hospitals!  How come none of the shifters we ran into ever recognized what you were though?”

“It ain’t like there’s a secret handshake or some shit like that!” he exclaimed.  “‘Sides, the point of being a shifter is being able to pass as close as possible to whoever you’re mimicking.  That means not only looking and sounding like the person, but also smelling like ‘em and I guess tasting like ‘em too, if someone gives you a lick.  You ain’t doing it right if another fucking monster can figure out what you are too easily.”

“Still, the one in St. Louis should have realized the truth when he copied you and got your memories, right?”

“Yeah, that’s true.  Still dunno why he didn’t spill that.  Maybe he thought honor among thieves or something?”  Dean turned his head to look at me anxiously.  “You do know the stuff he did tell you wasn’t the whole truth though?”

“Dean, that was years ago!  Besides, he had a point.  I did have things much easier growing up, mostly thanks to you.  I wish you’d had the opportunity to get out and go to college like I did, even if it didn’t work out for me in the end.”

“Water under the bridge, Sammy.  We’re where we need to be, and we’re together.  So what else do you wanna know about the glamorous life of a shapeshifter?”

“Have you copied other people?”

“Not often.  A few times while hunting with Dad or on my own, I’d do small stuff to change my appearance to not get recognized.  Dunno if that’s something all shifters can do, changing just bits and pieces here and there.  That ain’t so bad, not much different than putting on a disguise. 

“I’ve only copied an actual person a coupla times, when we needed to get access to somewhere where our fake IDs weren’t cutting it.  I _hated_ it.  Didn’t feel like me anymore, and there were all these additional memories fucking things up.  I think that’s one of the reasons why other shifters go batshit—can’t keep track of themselves in all the noise.  After the second time, Dad had to take me to a medicine man to find a way to dump the extra baggage.”  Dean shuddered under my hands.

“I never thought of that, man.  The two of us have gotten this far without you having to do that, so we’ll have to do our best to keep it that way.”  I hugged the other man reassuringly.  “Umm, okay, different question.  How did you figure out how you were going to look as you grew up?”

“You think I _decided_ to look like this?  With these stupid lips that people keep making rude comments about and these girly lashes?  If I had the chance to punch every jackass who called me ‘pretty boy’ . . . And the freckles!  Damn things might be cute when you’re ten, but they’re embarrassing when you’re thirty!  And if I could pick how I looked, I certainly wouldn’t have let you get taller than me!”

I started laughing.  “Oh my God, you’re adorable!  You’re, like, the most gorgeous person I’ve ever met, and you’re _complaining_ about it!”

“Goddammit, I am not adorable!  You may have turned into a Sasquatch, but I can still kick your ass!”  He pounced on me indignantly, and the next several minutes were spent scuffling good-naturedly.  Once Dean was satisfied that he had re-established older-brother dominance, he let me pull him back down into our previous cuddled position.

“Okay, okay, sorry about that!  So if you didn’t control how you looked as you grew up, what happened?”

“It ain’t exactly something that I’ve been able to compare notes with other shapeshifters about, understand?  But near as I can tell, when I copy someone, I really do become that person in most ways.  So the way I matured, how I look now, is pretty much how the real Dean woulda turned out.”

“Dad always said you look just like Mom.  I can see it too, from the pictures he had of her in the journal,” I said.

“I could tell it made him sad sometimes, the resemblance I mean.  But other times he’d look at me and tell me I was all he had left of ‘em, of Mom and the real Dean, and then he’d hug me tight.  The man had his faults, but he _cared_.”

“Don’t call him the real Dean, like you’re just an imitation, no matter what I said earlier!  He’s been gone for nearly twenty-six years.  _You’re_ my real big brother and the real badass hunter.  Whatever good Dean Winchester leaves behind is because of you, not some dead four-year-old kid!”

“Dude, cut it out!  Do you hafta turn everything into a chick-flick moment?”  Despite the gruff comment, Dean looked pleased.  “Anything else?”

“Just wondering how you’ve hid this up until now?  You didn’t have a reaction to my knife or the silver cuffs earlier.  Hell, I’ve seen you cut yourself with a silver knife before to prove you’re _not_ a shapeshifter.  And I’ve never seen your eyes give off the retinal flare before tonight.”

“Dad and I worked for years to build up my immunity to silver, though maybe not quite as well as Wesley with iocane powder.  Which was _not_ fun, lemme tell you!  But surface contact doesn’t burn anymore,” he brandished his right hand, with Mom’s silver wedding ring on the ring finger.  “And flesh wounds don’t really hurt more than usual.  Silver to the heart is still fatal though, as far as I know.  As for my eyes, we figured it’s like the membrane that makes cats’ eyes glow in the dark—”

“The _tapetum lucidum_ ,” I interjected.

“Thank you, nerd-boy, but I already knew that.  They’re my freaking eyeballs, remember?  Anyways, I think Dad considered getting the membranes removed but couldn’t find anyone he’d trust to do the surgery without asking too many questions or fucking it up.  He eventually got a recipe offa some witch for these eye drops.  They smell like ass and sting like a sonofabitch, but put ‘em in twice a day and no tell-tale flare.  I must’ve forgotten ‘em tonight after being used as a scratching post by that damn wendigo earlier.

“And fortunately shifters don’t have the same lunar issues or uh, dietary concerns as weres or skinwalkers.  Even your unobservant ass woulda noticed if I had to disappear every full moon to get my freak on.  Or if I was eating hearts with some fava beans and a nice Chianti on a regular basis.” 

“Shuddup, I’m plenty observant!”  I poked my brother in the most ticklish spot on his ribs.

Dean yelped and pinched me on the arm, which quickly escalated into all-out war.  I eventually won by dint of sitting on the smaller man and tickling his feet until he started to hyperventilate.  I rolled off once he tapped out, and we both tried to catch our breath.

After a few minutes of quiet, I leaned back and sighed.  “I really like this.”

“What, making me nearly piss myself, ya cheating motherfucker?”

“Using your lack of size against you is tactics, not cheating.  I meant being open with each other for a change.  Not keeping secrets or repressing everything behind some macho cover.  It kinda feels like when we were kids and didn’t have all this bullshit weighing us down.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts, kiddo.  I dunno what to say.  I guess I always felt I had to keep things back because if I let myself be too open, I might let the big secret slip.  Plus you know Dad wasn’t exactly the best role model for sharing and caring.”

“I get why you felt you had to keep this from me, I really do.  But think about all the other crap we’ve kept from each other and the problems that caused over the years.  About how much better things could have been if we’d just trusted each other more.  Hell, how much easier growing up could have been if I’d known the truth about _you_ back then and been able to support you along with Dad.”

“Maybe, I dunno?  Something to think about, I guess.  But right now, I need to get up before my ovaries explode and wash this crusty crap offa my face.”  Dean squirmed off the bed and ducked into the bathroom.

I rolled my eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we end again with Dean being Dean.
> 
> I hope this chapter didn't come across as too talky or info-dumpy, but I figured there's no way Sam wouldn't have questions. (Questions about how Dean being a shifter affects the canon myth arc--i.e. the Apocalypse--will be brought up in the next story in the series.) We'll be getting to the Wincesty feels and eventual smut soon!
> 
> This story is completed, and a new chapter will be posted weekly around this time. This is still un-beta'ed, so constructive criticism is always appreciated.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the boys confront their feelings . . .

I sat up on Dean’s bed, deep in thought.  If we were going to continue being honest with each other, then maybe now was the time to bare another long-kept secret.  Our relationship had been tense for a while, especially since our return from Heaven, and the conversation just past was the easiest we’d been with each other in months.  There was a big risk that this could ruin everything between us again if he didn’t feel the same way.  But I was pretty sure he did, based on his reactions earlier.  If I was wrong, well, my brother had already forgiven me for worse things, so I had to hope that he’d be able to do so again.

Before I could get too stuck inside my own head, Dean ambled out of the bathroom, his face freshly scrubbed.  I took a close look at his expression as he approached the bed.  Fortunately, it didn’t seem as if his usual walls had gone back up yet.  There were lingering traces of pain in his eyes, and I knew I would have to work long and hard to repair the damage I’d done tonight.  But overall he appeared more relaxed now than he had before.

Dean seemed unaware of my scrutiny.  “Is there any reason we gotta rush outta here today?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Awesome.  I dunno about you, but I gotta crash.  Not like either of us got much sleep tonight.  Think you can go to the front desk and pay for another night?”  He started to turn towards his duffle.

I caught his wrist before he could move away.  “Wait, Dee.  There—there is one other thing that I want to discuss.  In—in keeping with this new spirit of honesty and all.”

He looked down at me for a moment, and then sat on the other bed facing me.  “Okay, Sam.  What’s up?”

“Are you sure this was the only big secret you’ve been keeping from me?”

Dean looked puzzled.  “Like what?  Pretty sure there ain’t much bigger than ‘hey, I’m a fucking monster and I’ve been lying to you about it since forever.’  Though I get that you’re not gonna be able to trust me now.”  His face turned sad.

I swore to myself.  I should have known that with my brother’s nonexistent self-esteem, he’d turn the question against himself.  “No, no, that’s not what I meant!  I do still trust you as much as I always have.  And stop calling yourself a monster!  Yeah you’re not human, but you’re not anything like the things we hunt.

“I’m concerned with how badly you reacted before, Dee.  I’m not trying to downplay how I treated you like a complete asshole, I’m really not.  But face it, most people don’t want to go off and kill themselves over just losing their brother.”

“You’re not _just_ a brother to me, dumbass!  I’ve taken care of you since you were nine months old, so you’re the closest I’m probably ever gonna get to having a kid.  You’re also the closest friend I’ve ever had, and the only person I trust to have my back when we’re out there ganking fuglies.  You’re, like, the one constant good thing in my life.

“And this _wasn’t_ the only time I’ve been this bad.  When I let you die at Cold Oaks . . . if I hadn’t found a way to bring you back, I woulda joined you.  I still don’t regret doing what I did, even with all the shit that it’s caused since.  If I ever lost you for good, I don’t think I’d be able to make it.”  He sat back, breathing heavily.

“Sorry, man, I didn’t mean to get you upset again!  But I gotta say, I’m having a hard time buying that your feelings for me are _only_ familial or platonic.  People don’t generally try to pull a Romeo over family members or friends, no matter how close.”  My brother started to open his mouth, but I overrode him.  “And _don’t_ try to play dumb or deny it, Dean!  We talked about being more open and honest with each other.  Please don’t go back on that so soon.”

Dean’s expression became panicked.  “I _can’t_ , Sammy!  I just got you back, and I can’t lose you again!  I don’t wanna lie to you anymore, I really don’t, but I can’t risk ruining everything again!  Things are better between us now than they were before, so can’t we just leave it like this?”

I felt vindicated at his reaction.  “You’re not going to ruin anything, Dean, I promise.  Do you want to know how I’m so sure?  Because you mean _everything_ to me too.  You’ve been there for me all my life.  You’ve been my big brother, my parent, my teacher, my protector, my best friend. 

“But it’s _more_ than that.  I wasn’t joking when I said you’re the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen.  I’ve fantasized about you since I first figured out what sex was—you’ve been the star of my wet dreams since I was at least thirteen.  Most of the time when I’m with other people, I’m imagining they’re you, and I’m jealous whenever you’re with someone else.  Seeing you walk around these tiny motel rooms in just a towel or a pair of boxer-briefs, or shirtless like you are now, drives me crazy.”  I got up and moved closer until I was standing over him. 

“And this isn’t just lust.  I _love_ you, in every possible sense of the word.  I want to be with you every day, to wake up beside you each morning, to spend the rest of my life with you.  I want to make you delirious with pleasure, and I want make you truly _happy_ in every way I can.”  I pulled Dean up to stand in front of me and put my hands on either side of his face, tilting it so that those big green eyes were looking into mine. 

“I know this is a lot to take in, going from thinking I hated you earlier to _this_.  I’ve got a lot to make up for from tonight before I deserve your forgiveness.  So please let me start with this.  Let me show you how much I love you, how much I cherish you.  Let me take care of _you_ for once.”  I leaned down and placed my lips against his.

Dean moved his head to break the kiss but didn’t pull away.  “We _can’t_ do this, Sam!  It—it ain’t right.  You’re my baby brother.  I’m supposed to be taking care of you, not—not taking advantage of you,” he said weakly.

“You’re not taking advantage of me, Dee.  You never did anything wrong or inappropriate when I was growing up that made me feel like this.  You were just _you_ , and I think it was inevitable that I’d fall in love with my beautiful, wonderful big brother.  Besides, I’m not a kid anymore, and I know _exactly_ what I’m doing. 

“And how is this wrong?  We’re both consenting adults, and inbreeding isn’t exactly a concern here.  This wouldn’t hurt or affect anyone else.  People already assume we’re a couple all the time!  And if someone does find out we’re also brothers, does it really matter?  We already lie, cheat, steal, and break so many other laws and taboos, so how is this any worse?  Our recent trip to the afterlife showed that we’re soulmates, after all.  If Heaven approves of us being together, I don’t think we need to worry too much about society’s rules.”

Dean stepped back at that, his expression hurt.  “You mean the Heaven where all your best memories were of getting _away_ from me?  How can you say that you want this?  All you’ve ever _really_ wanted was a normal, apple-pie life.  So sooner or later, you’re gonna realize that _fucking your brother_ is pretty damn far from normal and leave again, and I’m gonna be stuck picking up the fucking pieces!  And I can’t handle that shit again, I just can’t!”  He threw himself down on the bed.

I knelt in front of him and grabbed his hands.  “Listen to me, Dee!  I don’t know what happened up there, but those were _not_ my happiest memories!  All my good memories from growing up and after Jess’ death are with _you_!  That douche Zachariah must have fucked around with them, like he did that last one with Mom.  But Ash _was_ real, and so is what he told us—I just know it. 

“And normal _isn’t_ what I want, not anymore.  It’s what I _thought_ I wanted back when I was a clueless teenager, when I wanted to get away from Dad and hunting and what I thought was my sick desire for my own brother.  But even when I got a shot at it at Stanford, it didn’t feel right.  Something was always missing, even when I was with Jess.  That something was _you_.  It took me a while after her death to accept it, and to realize that I’ve been in love with you this whole time.  But I know now that what I _truly_ want more than anything is to be with you.  If we eventually settle down together to some semblance of a normal life, that’ll be great.  But even if we keep on hunting until we’re old and grey, I’ll still be happy as long as you’re with me.”

I studied the vulnerable look in Dean’s eyes and realized the root of at least some of his insecurity.  My brother was the veteran of innumerable one-night stands and meaningless flings but was practically a virgin when it came to relationships.  The one time he tried, she cast him out after finding out the truth of what he did, leaving him gun-shy ever since.  And the way I treated him so badly tonight when I found out what he was probably brought back unpleasant memories of that break-up.

I surged up onto the bed beside my big brother and wrapped my arms around him.  “I’m _not_ like Cassie.  You don’t need to hide anything from me, and I promise I am never, _ever_ going to leave you again.  If I have to, I will devote the rest of my life to proving to you that there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.  That you deserve to be loved, to be cared for.  That you’re worth more than what Dad, the angels, or those nameless hook-ups wanted from you.  That you really are my everything, and I would do _anything_ for you.  Though one thing you said just now is true—I don’t want to ‘fuck my brother.’  I want to _make love_ to you.” 

I pressed a kiss against his lips once again.  After a moment, Dean moaned softly and kissed back.  Things got heated pretty quickly—all that experience meant that the other man was quite the expert kisser.  My brain started to short out when he began to nibble at the juncture of my neck and shoulder, and I held him back before I lost all cognitive function.

“Are you _sure_ this is what you want, Dee?  Because you know I don’t do casual.  If we start this, I’m gonna want everything.”

Dean looked exasperated.  “You are the _dumbest_ smart person I have ever met!  Did it look like I wasn’t fucking into this just now?  _Yes_ , Sam, I’m all in.  You’re the only one I’ve ever really wanted.” 

“And you’re not too tired right now?  You were saying you were pretty beat just a little while ago.”

“Little brother, the day I’m too tired for snu-snu is the day you’ll need to bury my ass.  Now shut up.”  He pulled me in for a scorching kiss, wet and hard and with just a bit of tongue.

Just as I began to respond enthusiastically, he stepped back.  “Uh-uh, not yet.  We’re gonna do this right, man.  I need to get in the shower and get cleaned up.  And you still need to go to the front desk.  While you’re there, come up with some excuse to switch us to a single.  We both ain’t gonna fit on one of these dinky-ass double beds.”  He smirked at my expression as he grabbed his shower bag.

I gaped while the bathroom door closed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, we've finally gotten to the WIncesty stuff, and there'll be plenty of smut in the last two chapters! :)
> 
> This story is complete, and I'll be publishing a chapter a week at around this time. Kudos and comments make my day! This is still un-beta'ed, so constructive criticism is always welcomed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which we finally get to the smutty goodness . . .

I returned in less than ten minutes.  I had no idea what I actually said to the motel clerk, but I was now holding the key to a new room.  The shower was still running when I got back, so I quickly packed our stuff and transferred everything to the other room.  I left behind the car keys and a note with the new room number.

The new room was the same in size and only marginally cleaner, but more importantly it was equipped with a king bed.  I dumped our bags in a corner and pulled the sheets back on the bed.  I was debating if I should get undressed when I heard the Impala rumble up outside the door. 

Dean walked in shortly after, still only wearing a pair of low-slung jeans.  He tossed his shower bag on top of the other bags and strolled up to me.  His fair skin was still slightly damp, and water glistened in the tawny spikes of his hair.  He gazed up at me through long lashes, an almost shy look in his green eyes.  The tip of his tongue came out and moistened those ruddy lips. 

“So, are we gonna do this?” he asked huskily.

I stared down at my brother, taking in how captivating he looked.  Then I placed my hands on either side of his face again and slotted my mouth against his.  It was my turn to moan as he flicked his tongue around mine, then gently bit my lower lip and nipped his way along my jaw.  This time I didn’t stop him when his mouth moved down my neck and began to suck at where it met my shoulder.  Instead, I hastily unbuttoned and shucked off my shirt, tossing it somewhere in the vicinity of the bags.

Dean leaned back at that.  “Damn, Sammy, so hot!” he said with a slow smile, rubbing his hands delightedly up my abdominal muscles.

I flushed.  I knew my facial features could never compete with his, but it was heady knowing that he appreciated the work I’d put into my body.  I gasped as his fingers reached my nipples and pinched and twisted the sensitive nubs.  Not to be outdone, I ran my nails down his back, up his ribs, and around his pectorals, smiling at the shivers this produced. 

“Let’s move this onto the bed,” I murmured, nudging him in that direction.

My older brother’s response was to sweep my legs out from under me, push me onto the bed, and leap on top.  He grinned down at me triumphantly as he straddled my hips.  He leaned his hands on my chest and swept his denim-clad crotch against mine.

“Pinned ya!” he crowed.

I growled, grabbed him by the waist, and rolled until he was beneath me, using my greater size to keep him in place.  I bit at one of his nipples while my hands undid the fastenings of his jeans.  I growled again as I realized he wasn’t wearing anything under them and began urgently tugging them down off his hips.

“Whoa, easy, tiger!”  Dean laughed as he pulled my head up and gave me a searing kiss.  “Thought we’re gonna make love, not fucking maul each other!”

“Too many clothes,” I muttered in reply as I finished stripping off his jeans. 

I took a moment to admire the view.  I’d seen him naked in passing before, but this was the first chance I’d had to take my time and enjoy the sight in front of me.  Dean wasn’t as well-built as I, but everything from his ears to his toes was exquisitely shaped and covered in miles of lean muscle and pale soft skin.  And the freckles that he hated but I secretly loved were everywhere, running along his forearms, across his shoulders and chest, and down his hips and thighs.  I resolved to indulge in a leisurely game of connect-the-dots later, preferably using my tongue.

Right now, however, I had to contend with the increasing tightness in my pants.  I hurriedly stood, pulled my jeans and boxers off, and kicked them to one side.  I paused as I felt Dean’s gaze on me.

His eyes darkened as they lingered on my groin.  “Packing some serious heat, aren’t you, little brother?” he purred.

I looked back at him.  His cock was smooth and perfect, not quite as long as mine but just as thick.  I suddenly wondered what it would taste like.

I crawled onto the foot of the bed.  Beginning at his feet, I kissed my way up my brother’s body, pausing to nibble at the sensitive skin behind his knees, lick along his inner thighs, mouth at his testicles and up his shaft, dip my tongue into his navel, and suckle at his nipples.  My progress was accompanied by a chorus of sighs, gasps, and whispered curses from the other man. 

When I got up to his face, I brushed my lips against his lush mouth, increasing the intensity of the kiss until his eyelids fluttered closed, thick lashes sweeping against his fair cheeks.  I lowered my pelvis until my cock rubbed against his and pressed my mouth down firmly just above his anti-possession tattoo, determined to mark him there. 

At that, Dean began rolling his hips, his cock sliding back and forth against mine.  As I sucked harder against his chest, he groaned and slipped his hands between us, wrapping them around both our members.  He started jerking both of us off together, his hands sliding up and down our shafts, slowly increasing the friction until I felt my eyes about to roll to the back of my head.

“Dean, stop, wait . . . I can’t . . .  I wanna . . . ‘s too soon,” I mumbled incoherently.

“’S okay, baby boy, let go.  We got plenty of time.  Just means we’ll last longer for round two.” 

His hands and hips proceeded to move faster.  By now, our members were both slick with pre-ejaculate, allowing his cock to glide against mine like two parts of the same well-oiled machine.  His eyes opened partway and met mine, lust-blown pupils almost completely obscuring the green.  With a shout, I came all over his hands and belly, my vision whiting out for a moment.  I dimly felt his hands clenching convulsively as his cum joined mine almost immediately afterward.  I had enough control left to roll to the side as I collapsed onto the bed.

“Wow . . . that was . . . wow,” I panted.

Dean laughed.  “Don’t quit your day job there, Shakespeare.  How much is that fancy college education of yours supposed to be worth?”

“Oh, shut up!  It’s been a while, okay?  Not all of us are sex gods with willing conquests in half the towns across the Midwest!”

“Sex god, huh?  Well, luckily for you, I’m a benevolent deity.  I’m gonna clean myself off and bring you back a washcloth to do the same.  While I’m in the head, you can figure out how to properly offer your god tribute!”

I refrained from giving a snarky retort as he went into the bathroom, opting instead to ogle the curve of his ass.  He must have noticed since he put a definite sway into his hips as he walked away.  He returned in a few minutes with a warm, damp washcloth and gently swabbed my groin and abdomen clean.  He dropped the cloth on the floor and curled up next to me.

I immediately put my arms around his waist and buried my face in his shoulder, enjoying the mingled scents of sweat, leather, gunpowder, and Old Spice.  Eventually I raised my head.  “Hey Dee, when did you, well, know?”

He stroked my back.  “How I felt about you?  Not as early as you did, that’s for sure.  I mean, you’ve always been the most important person in my life from the moment Dad put you in my arms.  I’ve loved you more than anything from the very beginning, but there wasn’t anything, you know, sexual or romantic to it for the longest time, even when you shot up taller than me.  You were still my skinny, goofy, nerdy baby brother with the floppy hair and puppy-dog eyes.

“Wasn’t until after I’d visited you a few times at Stanford that I started to figure out you weren’t a geeky little kid anymore.  I think it really hit me after that first hunt in Jericho, when I saw how you’d grown up and filled out, the softness gone from your face.  And I realized that there would never be anyone more perfect for me than you. 

“But then Jess died, and you needed _family_ more than a suitor.  My responsibility as a big brother was more important than anything else I might want, and I wasn’t gonna jeopardize our relationship.  And with all the shit that’s happened since then, my feelings didn’t seem like a high priority.”

“So we’ve both spent the past five years feeling the same way about each other but were too afraid to say anything?”  I sighed at all the lost opportunities.

“Guess so.  So we’ve got a lotta fucking time to make up for now.”  Dean suited actions to words and began kissing me softly and caressing my chest. 

I decided talking was indeed overrated at this moment and put a hand on his cock.  I stroked it slowly, enjoying how soft and silky it felt against my palm.  It twitched and quickly began to swell.

His mouth by now had migrated back to the joining of my neck and shoulder.  “Mmm, so good, little brother,” he murmured against my skin, his fingers teasing at my nipples.  He lazily thrust against my hand a few times. 

He abruptly wriggled free and slid down until his face was even with my cock.  He licked at the glans and frenulum for a moment before swallowing the whole length down.  I gasped in surprise at that.  I was hardly small by anyone’s definition, and no one had ever deep–throated me so easily.

Dean pulled off at my gasp and beamed up at me.  “One of the benefits of being what I am—got more control over all sorts of things, including my gag reflex.”

He returned to my cock and sucked enthusiastically on the head like it was a giant lollipop, one hand gently fondling my balls.  He may have hated all the lewd comments about his mouth, but I had to admit his full lips looked intoxicating wrapped around my shaft.  He then swallowed me down again and started to hum.  The three coherent brain cells I had left recognized the chorus to _Kashmir_.  I fisted one hand in the longer hair on top of his head as he massaged my testicles and swirled his tongue around my member in time to the music. 

“Dee, wait . . . I’ve gotta . . . I’m gonna cum . . .”  I tugged on his head, attempting to pull him away.

His reaction was to suck harder and hum louder.  I tried to hold out but soon found myself shooting down my brother’s throat with a moan.  He swallowed it all down and licked a few stray drops from his lips.

“Dude, were you just humming Zeppelin around my cock?” I asked when I was capable of speech.

“You loved it, admit it,” he replied smugly as he moved back up the bed.  He kissed me, and I could faintly taste my cum in his mouth when I slipped my tongue inside.

“Mmm . . . That _was_ spectacular,” I told him and returned his kiss.

“Plenty more where that came from, baby.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter to go! This was my first time writing a sex scene, so I hope it came out okay.
> 
> The final chapter for this work will be posted this time next week. Kudos and comments make my day, and constructive criticism is always welcome.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there was so much smut, it spilled over into a second chapter . . .

I noticed that Dean was still hard, and I remembered wondering earlier what he tasted like.  I proceeded to lick and suck a line down his torso until I reached his groin.  I curled my tongue around the head of his cock and slid the tip in and out of his slit.  I took as much of him into my mouth as I could without choking and gently ran my teeth up and down his length.  I used one hand to grasp the base of his cock and the other to scratch lightly at his scrotum.

It had been a long time since I'd last given anyone head, and it wasn't something I'd done often even back then.  But judging from the hands clenching in my hair and the eager noises I was hearing, the other man was more than happy with the results.  After a couple minutes of sucking and fondling though, he pulled my head away.

“What's the matter?  Am I not doing it right?”  I looked up at him anxiously.

“No, Sammy, you're awesome.  I just don't wanna cum like this—wanna cum with you inside me.”

“Oh.  _Oh!_ ”  I flushed, suddenly feeling flustered.

My big brother of course noticed immediately.  He pulled me up until we were facing each other.  “What's the matter, little brother?  Never done this before?”

I nodded.  “I experimented with a few guys in college, before Jess, but nothing more than hand jobs and blowjobs.  I know what to do in theory, but not so much in actual practice.”

“No guys since then?  How come?”

“’Cause all the men I went out with looked like _you_!  It would’ve been hard to keep how I felt secret if I did that with you around.”  I felt even more embarrassed.  “And ‘cause I realized that they were just substitutes for the real thing, and I wasn’t satisfied with that anymore.”

“It's okay, dude.  I know all this is hard to resist.”  Dean put on his smarmiest grin and waggled his eyebrows.

I laughed.  “Shut up, you idiot!”

“That's better!”  He kissed me.  “Just relax, enjoy yourself, and it'll all work out.  This shit ain’t rocket surgery.  You've been doing more than fine so far.”  He kissed me again.

We kissed for a few minutes, slowly at first and then with more and more heat.  Dean ran his hands along my ribs and down my abs.  As they went below my navel, I grabbed them and pressed them into the pillow above his head. 

“Keep your hands there,” I told him.

He smirked.  “Sammy, I get all tingly when you take control like that.”

I kissed him hard to shut him up.  I slid my hand down to his cock and stroked it a few times.  I then reached behind his balls and rubbed along his perineum.  I ran my fingers around the pucker of his entrance until he made a pleased noise.  I pushed gently against the opening, intending to insert the tip of my finger just a little bit before getting the lube.  To my surprise, I felt moisture there already.

“Did you lube yourself up earlier?” I asked.

“Not exactly.  It's a trick I figured out after my first coupla times with a guy.  Assholes don't get wet like pussies, and they tear easier, so I make a small, uh, adjustment down there when I'm getting ready.  Makes for a more enjoyable experience for everyone, and I don’t need much prep either,” Dean stated proudly.  “Normally I gotta keep the change subtle with other guys, but I don't hafta worry about that anymore.”

“Uh, yeah,” I mumbled.  My thoughts were lost momentarily in the possibilities of what other _changes_ he could make, until he wriggled insistently against my fingers.  “Oh, sorry!”

I pushed my finger in the rest of the way, past the outer ring of muscle and into my brother's snug, wet heat.  I slid it in and out, watching his face for any sign of discomfort.  Seeing his eyelids at half-mast in pleasure, I added a second finger and scissored them open and shut.  The muscles of his passage stretched easily enough, so I began to feel around on his inner walls.  His pelvis jerked as I found the right spot, and his cock gave off a spurt of pre-cum.

“Oh yeah, right there, Sammy!” he gasped.

My response was to continue to rub against his prostate and to lean down and lick at the clear fluid seeping from the head of his cock.  His hips began to rock in sync with my fingers.  I swiftly inserted a third, and he whined deep in his throat.

“ _Sonofabitch!_   Fuck, baby boy, keep that up and I ain’t gonna last long,” he panted.  His eyes were screwed shut, his freckled cheeks flushed, and his hands fisted tightly in the pillow.

The sight of my big brother coming undone under my ministrations went straight to my own cock, and I had to grasp the base with my free hand to stay in control.  I withdrew my fingers from his body and wiped them on the bedsheet. 

“Should I get a condom, Dee?”

He shook his head.  “I can't catch anything from regular people, so there’s no risk of you getting something from me.  Now hurry up and fucking get in here!”  Green eyes opened and looked at me challengingly.

I leaned down and kissed him.  “Of course you'd be a pushy bottom!”

Dean pushed himself up on the pillows and spread his legs wide in answer, giving me a clear view of his hole, pink and damp and waiting.  I moved up between his knees and lined my cock up with his entrance.  I pushed in slowly, groaning slightly as his firm inner muscles relaxed around me.  I kept pressing forward until I was fully seated, the curls of my pubic hair brushing against his ass.  He felt amazing inside—moist and silky like a woman, but so much tighter and hotter.  It was different than anything I'd experienced, and yet it somehow felt like coming home.

“Oh God, Dean, you feel incredible!  Are—are you alright?”

“Not my first rodeo, kiddo.  Though you're definitely the biggest bronco I've ridden!”  He grinned at me lasciviously and squeezed lightly around my cock.  “Keep going!”

I began moving slowly, shifting my aim with each stroke until his gasp indicated that I'd found his prostate.  My thrusts picked up speed at that point, rubbing against his sweet spot with each pass.  He wrapped his legs around my waist, rolling his hips and clenching his inner walls in time with my movement.  I growled, dug my hands into his asscheeks, and pounded into my brother harder.

If I hadn't climaxed twice already, I would have exploded by now.  As it was, I kept plunging into him, listening to his cries increase in intensity and frequency.  I reveled in the sensation of gliding in and out of his slick channel, of his warmth and strength surrounding my cock, and of his hips rising up to meet my thrusts.  His cock bobbed between us, proudly erect and leaking pre-ejaculate onto his taut stomach. 

I leaned down to kiss him, and his member rubbed between our abdomens.  This additional bit of friction was apparently enough to send Dean over the edge.  His back arched and his inner muscles clamped down around me as his cum streaked both our bellies.  I rode out the wave of his orgasm, smothering his shout with my mouth as I continued to thrust.  I managed a few more strokes before being overwhelmed by a rush of pleasure.  My hips stuttered and I yelled something, maybe his name, as I pulsed deep inside him.

I rested on my elbows above him, both of us panting and shaking.  Once I caught my breath, I said, “I love you, Dee.”

“I know.”  He pulled my head down for a long, passionate kiss.

I carefully pulled out, with a disgruntled noise from my brother as my softened member left his body.  I rolled over, reached down, and managed to grab the damp washcloth he had dropped earlier.  I quickly cleaned our mingled fluids off my stomach and cock.

I leaned over to do the same for him and paused.  “Dude, are you—are you _purring_?”

He looked startled and then self-conscious.  “I dunno?  Maybe?  Shut up!”  He grabbed the cloth and wiped himself off hurriedly before flopping back on the pillows.  “Gotta say though, little brother, that you’ve got _no_ cause for performance anxiety.  This was the best I’ve had in . . . well, ever!”

I laid down beside him and tugged at him until his head was resting on my shoulder, his chest—he was _definitely_ purring—vibrating against mine.  “I’m glad.  That’s a pretty big compliment coming from someone of your experience!  You’re not sore, are you?  I know I got pretty . . . um, vigorous there.”  I scanned anxiously down his body for bruising.

Dean stretched luxuriantly, and the purr got louder.  “Mmm, that’s one way to describe it.  Don’t worry, Sammy, I’m _real_ good!  How ’bout you?”

“I’m not sure I’ve got the words to describe how I feel.  I’ve been dreaming about this for _so_ long, about being with you, about you feeling the same as I do.  Now that it’s actually happening . . . I keep expecting to wake up or something, you know?”  I touched the faint line on his throat from where I cut him earlier.  “I still can’t believe how close I came to ruining _everything_.”

He pulled my fingers away from his neck and folded them over.  “You gotta stop beating yourself up about this, kiddo.  With all the shit that’s been dumped on you lately, it ain’t a big surprise that this pushed you over the edge for a while.  And it takes two to tango.  I shoulda figured out some way to tell you before this.  So just let it go.”  He pressed a kiss onto my knuckles.

“You’re too good to me,” I murmured as I wrapped an arm around his waist.

“Yeah?  Well, you can show your appreciation later with _pie_.  Lots and lots of pie!  And none of that dollar menu crap either—I’m talking good, old-fashioned diner pie!” 

Dean waited until I finished laughing before continuing.  “Seriously though, I can’t remember the last time I felt this happy.  And not just because of the mind-blowing sex!  Maybe there _is_ something to this soulmate crap.”

“You’re such a romantic,” I said drily.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.  Don’t harsh my afterglow, bitch!  Anyways, the past few hours have been pretty wild, man—going from having to hide that I’m a monster to _this_.  Today sure started out shitty, but I can’t complain about the end result.”  He yawned.

“I hope not, jerk!  And you’re _my_ monster now.  My gorgeous, amazing monster.”  I embraced my brother tightly as we both fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's it for this story! Hope you enjoyed it! Kudos and comments, including constructive criticism, are always appreciated.
> 
> I originally expected this to be a one-shot, but the plot bunny kept going! The second story in the series is already finished and in final edits, and the first chapter should be posted next week. Like this one, it'll be posted a chapter a week while I work on the third story. I also have ideas for at least two more works after that, so we'll see how long this series goes . . .


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